


Waiting...

by asmodesgold



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, fun game-see if you can find the extra little bit of shade I threw in there, me trying to justify why Sonny is being so OOC this season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 21:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10522500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asmodesgold/pseuds/asmodesgold
Summary: On the bottom bunk in the far corner of the room, Sonny is sitting hunched over the side of the bed, whole body shaking as he loudly sobs into his hands.





	

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to booyahkendell for being the one who let me write this story to in tumblr's messenger, and for betaing it!

Rafael Barba is just getting into a cab outside his office when his phone starts ringing. It's Rollins. He sighs through his nose. Didn’t he say he would stop by on his way home? Then again, the detectives do tend to treat him like a child anymore.

 

“Yes?” He doesn't even try to hide the annoyance in his voice.

 

“Hey, do you have someone who can fix a big tear in a blazer?”

 

Barba's mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to figure out where this is coming from. And why is she whispering?

 

“Depends on the damage,” he finally says, then, because he can't help his curiosity, “why?”

 

“Well, Carisi got his all cut up today and ever since he’s been all weird about it, so I took him to the bunks and tried asking him about it, and he got _really weird_ like he was going to _cry,_ but he won’t _tell me_ what’s wrong, so I don’t know _what else to do_.”

 

The worry lacing her words is enough to quell any snark he may have thrown.

 

“I’ll be there soon,” he says, though as she thanks him and hangs up he silently admits he doesn’t know if there’s anything he can do, either.

 

The cab rolls down the darkening streets, tires sloshing through puddles and potholes. Something’s been off with Carisi for awhile now, and Barba’s not sure if he’s the only one who’s caught it or not. He’s been angry, bitter, distant. They’ve all been off, if he’s being honest, as if some grey fog had descended on them, taking their quasi-family and drifting them apart. Hell, he doesn’t even really talk to any of them besides Liv anymore.

 

Before he knows it he’s walking into the precinct, up the elevator and through the bullpen to the room sequestered as far away from the action as possible, where cops go to sleep when they’re pulling doubles. He raps his knuckles a few times on the door and doesn’t have to wait long for Rollins to appear, her worried face morphing halfway into relief when she sees him. She steps into the hallway and shuts the door behind her.

 

“I don’t know what happened, but I told him you were on your way to help and he just broke down. I’ve never seen him like this.”

 

“Should I leave?”

 

“No,” she says, shaking her head emphatically. “Nothing I’ve tried is helping _at all,_ and at least this is better than the weird nothing from before.”

 

Barba nods and takes a deep breath before entering the room, Rollins’ whispered, “I’ll be right outside” preceding the door shutting behind him.

 

Even with her warnings he’s not prepared for the scene that greets him.

 

On the bottom bunk in the far corner of the room, Sonny is sitting, hunched over the side of the bed, whole body shaking as he loudly sobs into his hands. Barba takes another steadying breath and makes his way over to him, awkwardly sitting down on the stiff mattress next to him. If Sonny knows he’s there, he doesn’t show it. Unsure of what to do, Barba quietly sets a hand on his shoulder.

 

He can’t remember the last time they touched; Sonny used to be full of random, friendly pats, shoulder bumps, attention-grabbing fingers lightly grazing his shirt. He contemplates this as he waits for Sonny to run out of steam.

 

Eventually Sonny quiets and lowers his hands, revealing deep lines of stress criss-crossed with tear tracks. Without looking at Barba, he shifts backwards on the bed so that he can lean against the wall, Barba's hand falling from his shoulder to land uselessly on the blanket.

 

There’s a crumpled suit jacket in Sonny’s lap. This, Barba assumes, must be the offending object. Still, he doesn’t know what to say, so he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, chin on hands, and they sit in silence for a bit longer, Sonny’s breath hitching every now and then the only thing breaking it.

 

But Barba, as much as he would tease Sonny for never being able to stop moving, talking, _going,_ is too impatient to sit idly for much longer. Slowly, so as not to spook the distraught man, he straightens and reaches behind him to gently pick up the blazer, bringing it to himself to study the obvious tear. It’s a few inches long, edges harshly jagged.

 

"Got caught on a fence,” Sonny says, his voice raw and broken.

 

"It can be fixed," Barba reassures him, though he’s honestly not sure how much Kanso will be able to do. But he’s sure he can do _something._ "I can take it to my tailor," he continues.

 

Sonny scoffs, laughing low and hollowly.

 

"No, you can't."

 

Something grabs in Barba's head, like the chain on his childhood bike used to as it tried to grab onto the right gear.

 

"This isn't yours."

 

Sonny rests his head against the wall, closes his eyes.

 

"It’s not."

 

"It's a rental."

 

Sonny gives a small nod.

 

Click...click...click click click click, the chain grabs on and his mind is gaining ground, flying quickly through facts, possibilities, assumptions, theories; a rental means security deposit, means high penalties for damage, much higher than the cost to get it repaired. But, even that wouldn't be so high a price to cause such despair…

 

...Unless…

 

"How much do you need."

 

Sonny's eyes fall open and he rolls his head to the side, looking at him with exhausted confusion.

 

"What?"

 

Barba brings his right leg up on the bed so he can turn fully towards him.

 

"How much do you need."

 

The muscles in Sonny's face twitch and contort and Barba tenses, preparing for more tears. But his eyes remain dry, if pleading. Barba can read the messages they’re trying to send.

 

_Help me._

 

"It's too late.”

 

_I’m lost._

 

“What's too late, Carisi?"

 

Sonny turns his head back to stare at the underside of the top bunk. His swallow is audible in the tense calm of the room.

 

"I've already been evicted."

 

The bike chain snaps.

 

“Evicted?"

 

Sonny gives a shuddering sigh.

 

"Yesterday. Spent the night in the car."

 

Barba is wide-eyed and silent. He can feel something, something big underneath all of this. Tread carefully, he tells himself.

 

"Did you ask Rollins to sleep on her couch?"

 

Sonny shook his head, closing his eyes.

 

"She's got enough stress with Jesse keeping her up all night. She’s a good kid, been eating better, but can’t seem to sleep more than a few hours at a time."

 

"Not to mention Kim," Sonny adds after a second of thought. “Amanda says she’s being surprisingly helpful, though she still has her moments.”

 

Noah would then be the reason he wouldn't ask Liv, Barba theorised. "Alright, what about Tutuola?"

 

"Fin? He's turning his spare room into a nursery so his grandson can spend nights with him. He says the kid should be born any day now,” Sonny wipes at his face. “I'd just be in the way."

 

Barba bites his tongue. Tread carefully, he mentally repeats.

 

"Bella's got her hands full with my niece. Hey, have I shown you pictures of her? The most beautiful baby I've ever seen."

 

Looking at pictures of other people's’ kids is something he usually begs off from, but Sonny is producing his cell from his vest pocket with the first hint of energy that night, so he shakes his head and scoots himself on the bed until he's next to Sonny, back against the wall, shoulders pressed together, heads tilted towards each other as Sonny brings up his phone and begins swiping through pictures of a red, shriveled infant.

 

There's a familiar twinge in Barba’s heart, an old ache that he normally ignores, at the little human crying in the arms of an exhausted, but happy, Bella and Tommy.

 

Subtly he turns to look at Sonny, his face so close to his that he can clearly see the longing, the longing that has laced his voice, embodied in every inch of his face as he stares at the phone.

 

"She's beautiful," he agrees softly, though he's not sure he's talking about the child.

 

"Yeah," Sonny says, just as softly.

 

Sonny sets the phone on the bed and angles his face towards Barba, not quite meeting his eye. They're so close Barba can feel his now much calmer breath on his own chin.

 

He hesitates, the next question sitting noxious on his tongue. Be careful.

 

“What about your parents?"

 

Sonny begins shaking again, and Barba is sure if it weren't for the wall and his shoulder he'd be falling over.

 

"They say it hasn't spread."

 

He doesn’t respond, leaving the floor open for Sonny to continue at his own pace.

 

"They say they caught it in time, that after they take the lung he'll be fine. But..."

 

Barba stays quiet as Sonny gives a few loud, dry sobs.

 

"Ma had to take out a second mortgage for the surgery, but she can't work 'cause she's gotta take care of him."

 

"Gina's between jobs, so she can't help out, and Teresa can only do so much, and Bella..."

 

Sonny stares down at the dark screen of his phone.

 

"They thought they'd be okay once the baby came, but they ain't doin' too good either.”

  

“Somebody’s gotta help them, right?”

 

"Sonny," Barba whispers.

 

The detective looks up at him through damp eyelashes, eyes full of silent screams of despair; torment, fear, anger, helplessness, but mostly, screams for help.

 

“I increased my life insurance policy,” he admits, hushed and hurried.

 

The bike crashes, painfully, to the ground.

 

Barba doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what he _can_ say to such a loaded sentence.

 

The only thing he can do is pull Sonny into his arms and tuck him in tight under his chin. His own heart aches and there’s a burning behind his eyes that threatens to spill over, but he pushes it down. This moment is not about him. He can grieve later, in private.

 

Sonny doesn't try to fight, he just melts into Barba's arms, sagging boneless into him. He's not crying, not really, not yet, but Barba's shirt collar gets damp nonetheless.

 

He continues to hold Sonny as he begins shaking in earnest. One of his hands comes up from Sonny's back to cradle the back of his head, fingers intertwining with soft hair.

 

The unrelenting stress of the last couple years, the sorrow of losing his abuelita, the pain of severed friendships, the anxiety of the threats on his life, they all come to a head in that moment and he’s no longer able to suppress it all. Silently, he weeps into Sonny’s hair.

 

They lay against the wall and against each other for how long, Barba doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care, the hollow serenity he’s left with all he can focus on.

 

The hair under his cheek stirs, tickling his nose, bringing him back to the present. He comes to a decision.

 

"Ask me," he says.

 

Sonny stills.

 

"Ask me," Barba repeats.

 

Sonny pulls back, Barba's hand falling from his back while his other drops to palm Sonny's neck, thumb resting along his jawline.

 

"I...I," Sonny falters, the painful longing oozing out of every pore. "I shouldn't."

 

Barba cocks his head to the side.

 

"Why?"

 

Sonny's eyes drift down to the suit jacket still in Barba's lap.

 

"Do you know why I rented that?"

 

Barba's finger finds the tear again, and he traces the edges.

 

"No, why?"

 

“Because," he huffs self-deprecatingly, turning his face away from Barba, but not far enough to break from his hand.

 

"Because I couldn't afford them. Because they were running a special for new customers if you bought a membership and it was cheaper than buying any of them."

 

"Because with school and books and loans and living I knew I'd _never_ be able to afford them."

 

"Because I knew no one would take me seriously if I looked like just a dumb dime store cop.”

 

“Because I knew _you_ wouldn't.”

 

Barba can do nothing but blink; there's too much flying around his head. He knew, of course, on some level, that when the improved attire had first graced Sonny's lanky frame that it hadn't been completely separate from the detective's obvious admiration for him. That admiration, however, seemed to run a lot deeper than he'd thought.

 

The room is quiet again, the only noise the night shift settling in outside in the bullpen.

 

"You don’t have to acknowledge it," Sonny says, his shoulders slumped in defeat to the weight set unfairly on them. “I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

 

"I'm sorry for all of this," he continues. "I should've tried taking that job you were trying to help me with. I mean, we'd all be much better off right? The pay must be pretty good..." he trails off.

 

Barba remembers that job, it had been right around the time Dodds - _Christ_. Dodds. Shame on him for almost forgetting that. No wonder Sonny hadn't taken it, with his world cracking around him he must’ve been trying to desperately to cling to his work family, to the safe and familiar, even as they all branched out without him.

 

Everyone, that is, except Barba.

 

"Ask me," Barba says for a third time. His thumb, almost without his permission, strokes Sonny's cheek.

 

Sonny says nothing, lost in his sorrow.

 

Barba leans forward, reducing the gap between them once again.

 

"Ask me," he whispers fervently into the corner of Sonny's mouth, his forehead to Sonny's temple.

 

Sonny's breath catches in his throat, but his pulse quickens under Barba's palm.

 

"Ask me," he mouths into Sonny's lips.

 

They kiss improperly, Sonny’s plump bottom lip the perfect target for Barba's teeth. Their fingers dig into fabric, pulling at each other. Barba falls from his lips to trail open mouthed kisses along Sonny's jaw, salt on his tongue.

 

"Ask me," he pleads into the space behind Sonny's ear.

 

Sonny gives one final, shuddering full body sob, and Barba comes back to nuzzle their noses together.

 

”Can I come home wi-wi-"

 

Barba kisses him, hungrily devouring the remnants of that sweet, broken voice, the rest of the sentence unimportant and unwanted to him.

 

"Yes," he says firmly.

 

"And you _never_ have to ask again."

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
